


Cold-Blooded

by little_miss_anglerfish



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Cuddling, Fisticuffs, Hurt/Comfort, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Of the Demonic Variety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 07:29:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19146355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/little_miss_anglerfish/pseuds/little_miss_anglerfish
Summary: Crowley had picked the worst time to get his ass kicked.Then again, if it means being doted on by Aziraphale, was it really so bad?





	Cold-Blooded

Crowley won, by his estimates, nine out of ten fights that he got himself into. 

Whether it was against another gladiator amidst jeering Romans, or a drunken brawl in the back alleys of Victorian London, Crowley was rather proud of his track record. Having demonic powers probably counted as cheating, but that didn't matter to an agent of Hell. So when he noticed a large van managing to keep pace with him as he tore through central London, Crowley shouldn't have been concerned about the fight that was inevitably going to come. 

Except he was worried, a little. There were demons in the van; he could practically smell them, the all-too-familiar stench of rot and disease. Usually, a few demons wouldn't be too much of a challenge. But it was the dead of winter, and Crowley knew the odds were stacked against him. More than anything, he wanted to get to the bookshop, curl up next to Aziraphale by the fireplace, and share some mulled wine. Anything to keep warm, really; Crowley despised the cold, the way it sank into his bones and made him feel so sluggish and useless. But there was no way he was going to lead those assholes right to Aziraphale's front door. So he turned sharply in the opposite direction, toward the Thames. If it was a fight they wanted, Crowley was more than happy to oblige.

As he parked the Bentley by the frozen water, he removed his sunglasses. Best to use some intimidation, as far as it would get him. Maybe if he was lucky, he could scare the little shits away before things went too far. But his confidence wavered slightly when he saw two demons climb out of the van behind him. He took a breath, and stepped out into the freezing air. 

"Gentlemen," he said, trying to sound as bored as possible. "How may I help you this fine evening?"

"Do not speak to us as if we are comrades," the first of the demons hissed. His hair was a sickly green. "You betrayed us. You betrayed our Lord, Satan."

"Hail Satan," the other demon hissed. 

Crowley stuffed his hands into his pockets. "'Betrayed'? That's a bit of a strong word, don't you think? No, I don't think I _betrayed_ anyone. I think I just...dropped the ball. Mucked up." 

"Mucked up the _Apocalypse_ ," the second demon spat. Crowley could see the insects crawling over her ragged clothes. "Only the one thing we've been working toward for millennia. You were entrusted with the Antichrist, and yet your actions lead to the entire Apocalypse being averted."

Already, Crowley could feel himself growing groggy. He needed to end this, _now_. "Yes, yes, well we all make mistakes, don't we?" he said, flippantly. "Now are you lot here to do something about it or did you come all this way to hunt me down and waste time scolding me?" 

The bug-infested demon smiled wickedly. "We don't mean to waste your time, Crowley. We only needed to distract you for a moment." 

From behind, Crowley heard the ice break. A horrible, sinking feeling washed over him. "Oh, shi - " A third demon had appeared from the water. They wrapped a pair of strong arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him sharply downwards, half dragging him toward the water as he flailed. Panic, mixed with the cold, made it nearly impossible to think straight. He clawed at the demon's muscular arms, but they didn't even flinch. They shoved him under the surface of the icy water, and the shock that ran through Crowley's body almost made him scream. How long was he under? He had no idea. His body was so numb from cold that he could hardly feel the demon's vice-like grip on him. 

_What a way to go out,_ he thought, vaguely. _Saved the world and now I'm drowning in the bloody Thames_. 

Crowley wondered what Aziraphale was doing. Probably reading some dreadfully boring book about philosophy or rare birds or something. Crowley could almost picture him, puttering about the bookshop with a fresh cup of tea. Sometimes, when the wine was starting to kick in, Crowley would find himself watching Aziraphale. The way he moved, with a sort of nervous urgency, like there was something he'd forgotten, but couldn't remember what it was. And suddenly, death wasn't even the scariest thing for Crowley; the idea of never seeing Aziraphale again -- no more lunch dates, no more park bench, no more feeding ducks or getting smashing drunk together -- was altogether a more horrific fate than anything else Heaven or Hell could conjure up. 

A spark of sudden energy coursed through Crowley's veins, and with a strangled cry, he managed to throw off the demon that held him down. He emerged from the river soaked from head to waist, but he managed to stand all the same. The trio of demons seemed, for their part, wholly shocked at the sight of him, glowering at them with the kind of rage that could turn mere mortals to ash. 

"Run," he said. And that was all it took. The demons clambered over each other to get back into the van, speeding away into the frigid night.

 Crowley stumbled toward the Bentley, his limbs already growing heavy once more. He barely managed to pull the door open, reveling in the remaining heat that leaked out from inside. "Call Aziraphale."

"Calling Aziraphale," said the chipper digital woman's voice. 

The dial tone reverberated through the quiet. Crowley rested his head against the side of the car, blinking hard to stay awake. 

"I'm terribly sorry, but I'm afraid we're closed for the evening -- "

"Zira," Crowley said, cutting the angel off. 

"Crowley?" Aziraphale's voice betrayed his concern. "Dear boy, are you alright? I was growing worried when you didn't come, but I didn't want to intrude if you were busy..."

Crowley shook his head slowly, even though he knew Aziraphale couldn't see it. "By the Thames."

"Pardon?"

"'M...by the Thames." Crowley felt himself starting to slump; he braced himself against the leather seat. "'S cold." 

Aziraphale made a startled noise. "Oh. Oh, dear. I-I'll be right there. Alright? Just...don't move."

_Couldn't move even if I wanted to,_ Crowley thought, falling flat against the seat. _Besides -- seems like a good time for a nap._

________________________________________________________________________

 

When Crowley awoke, at first he had no idea where he was. His mind swam in a haze, but it was _warm_. A heavy blanket was draped over him, and his damp clothes had been removed, leaving him in just his boxers, it would seem. Crowley turned his head slowly. Aziraphale was reading quietly in the armchair. Crowley was on the sofa, closest to the fireplace. His body was sore, but at least he could feel his limbs again. 

"Angel?" he said, softly.

Aziraphale looked up, eyes wide. He abandoned the book and moved to kneel next to Crowley. "Oh, thank goodness you're awake. You had me worried sick, lying there pale as a specter. What were you thinking, going out and getting soaking wet when it's this cold out?" 

Crowley chuckled. "It was just a little scuffle with some lower demons who thought they could take me. 'M alright."

"Be that as it may, I would _prefer_  not to make late night rescue missions," Aziraphale said, his mouth pressed in a tight line. Crowley wanted to kiss away his tension so badly. He leaned into the angel's touch as Aziraphale started to run his fingers through Crowley's slightly damp hair. "What on earth am I to do with you?"

"Love me?" Crowley offered. 

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. "Despite the obvious. How about some wine, hmm?"

"In a bit." Crowley pulled on Aziraphale's sleeve. "Lay with me for a minute. You're nice and warm and soft."

"Needy bastard," Aziraphale said, but there was no malice in it. He helped Crowley sit up and then got onto the sofa behind him, so Crowley could lay flush against Aziraphale's chest. Crowley shuddered with the heat radiating off the angel's skin. He could hear Aziraphale's heartbeat, feel the rise and fall of his belly with each breath. Crowley pressed lazy kisses onto Aziraphale's neck and collarbone. "Dear, please, you'll get me all excited and you're in no state for that," the angel chided, lightly.

Crowley hummed. "Fair point. Rain check?"

"Indeed." Aziraphale kissed Crowley's hair. "But I'm anticipating it already."

 


End file.
